


Do you dare?

by DracoIgnis



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Yoga, Anal Sex, Cunnilingus, Dirty Talk, Doggy Style, F/M, Flexibility, Humor, Kissing, Rimming, Semi-Public Sex, Shameless Smut, Smut, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex, Yoga
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-18
Updated: 2020-02-18
Packaged: 2021-02-27 20:55:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 18,184
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22792102
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DracoIgnis/pseuds/DracoIgnis
Summary: In an attempt to cure his bad back, Jon signs up for yoga lessons. He might be bad at it, but luckily flexible teacher Daenerys is willing to show him a few tricks - if he dares to play along.Written for the Jonerys Valentines week.
Relationships: Jon Snow/Daenerys Targaryen
Comments: 70
Kudos: 323





	Do you dare?

The moment Jon stepped into the yoga studio, he noticed three things:

  1. He was the only guy.  
  
As he kicked off his sneakers, he glanced across the mats and counted a total of fourteen other people preparing themselves for class. Some were young, some were old, but they were all _women_.  
  
_This is not how Grey described it,_ Jon thought which led him to the next point:  
  

  2. Grey was nowhere in sight.  
  
Jon scrolled through his text messages as he slowly made his way to the back of the class. Of course, there was one from his friend profusely apologising for bowing out due to _unfortunate circumstances_.  
  
Jon gritted his teeth together. _That’s one way of explaining a hangover_ , he thought as he settled on an empty mat in the corner. Facing a row of women in tight leggings, he shyly averted his eyes and realised that:  
  

  3. He was _not_ dressed the part.



Jon pulled at his hoodie as he felt a drop of sweat trickle down his lower back. Though he was sat right beneath the aircon, he couldn’t feel much of a breeze. His skin was still tingling from the cool February wind outside, but his body was already warming up, and in between the sandalwood-scented candles and plugged in febreze-spray, he could sense the persistent stench of body odour.

 _Surely a bit of meditation won’t get anyone_ that _worked up?_ he mused. Yet, as he glanced around, he found everyone stretching as if about to run a marathon, and he awkwardly rolled his shoulders and wriggled his toes pretending to get in the mood himself. But while some of the women in front started humming a mantra foreign to him, the only thing repeating itself in his head was: _What the fuck am I doing here?_

It was Grey’s idea - of course. Jon had been complaining about his back-pain for weeks, but only in the same way that someone would ask: ‘How are you?’ and he’d reply: ‘I’ll be better when it’s weekend!’ It was nonessential moaning that came with working in an office environment, and Jon enjoyed hanging around the water cooler to grumble.

Only problem was that Grey’s New Year's resolution was to become a _changed man,_ and that involved anything from eating less meat and reading self-help books to becoming more _mindful_. Naturally, it was a total farce - his friend’s enthusiasm came and went the same his dates did. Still, when he went on a tirade about the health benefits of yoga, Jon couldn’t completely write him off, not even when Grey admitted that he mainly went to the class for the sake of one certain woman.

“You should go and see for yourself,” Grey said. “One look at her, and you’ll feel young again.”

“I’m only twenty-eight,” Jon protested weakly, but he was already signing up on his app as they spoke.

“But your back is eighty,” Grey grimaced. “Come on, Jon - I promise you _euphoria_ , in body and in mind. It’s worth a shot, isn’t it?”

 _But you also promised that you’d be here,_ Jon thought, bitterly glancing from the wall of mirrors to the large windows facing the street outside. With the blinds pulled up, he found himself awfully on display, and he forced his fingertips into the soft surface of the mat as he suppressed the need to run. The moment he pushed, he felt his tips getting wet, but before he could wonder whether it was water or if he was soaking in a stranger’s _perspiration_ , someone knelt in front of him.

“Hello,” he was greeted, “how are you feeling today?”

Jon glanced into a pair of violet eyes and he sensed at once that this was the very woman that Grey had been daydreaming about. Silver hair. Plump lips. Long neck. _Banging body,_ Jon thought, his gaze quickly surveying her perky bosom and thick thighs. She was dressed in grey leggings and a red tank that clenched to her upper body. He restrained himself from licking his lips as she continued:

“So Jon - any injuries I should know about?”

Jon blinked. “How do you know my name?”

She smirked and pulled out her phone, scrolling through a list of names. “Well, none of these ladies are called Jon, so unless you’ve not paid, I’ve got to assume you’re my last student.”

Jon eyed her screen as it dawned on him: _Grey didn’t even sign up to today’s lesson!_ He felt a knot of anger forming in his stomach, and it must’ve shown on his face, because the woman in front of him clucked her tongue.

“This is a place of peace,” she said, and it almost sounded like a command.

Jon tried to unfurrow his brows as he cleared his throat. “Sorry,” he said, “it’s my first time.”

“That’s okay,” she assured him, “I’m here to guide you. My name’s Daenerys.”

“I’m Jon,” Jon said before remembering her list, and he timidly scratched his neck as he mumbled: “But you know that already.”

Daenerys just retained her smile, her face perfectly neutral. “Make sure you don’t push yourself too hard. Listen to your body, and you’ll be fine.”

“Right,” Jon nodded and watched her get up. As Daenerys slippered between the mats to the front of the class, he couldn’t help but to linger on her arse. Her round buttocks stretched the fabric nicely, and he noted how they jiggled as she walked. It made the knot of anger in him melt and slipper down his body, and he adjusted himself on the mat as he tried not to stare.

“Good morning all!” Daenerys spun on her heels to face the class, her hands clapped together, her smile perfectly bright. “We will start today with some breathing exercises. Now, if you could please lie down on your back, palms facing upwards - we will begin.”

As Jon settled in place, the blinds being pulled and the sound of dripping water playing over the loudspeakers, he thought to himself: _This is going to be easy_ \- and he closed his eyes with a little smirk on his face, the image of Daenerys’ behind still lingering on his lids.

* * *

Half an hour later, Jon was halfway through his seventh Sun Salutation - and he was no longer smiling. As he held himself in a plank position, his arms and legs shivered, and he watched as sweat dropped from his forehead onto the mat in front of him. Flushed, tired and drenched, he wanted nothing more than to collapse, and at this point only pride was keeping him afloat.

“Hold your breath,” Daenerys urged in a gentle voice. He could hear her bare feet crossing the wooden floor, her steps slow, her voice like a soothing wind mixing with the jungle sounds from the speakers. “Hold it.”

Jon clenched his jaw and took in a sharp breath through his nose. _I am going to kill Grey,_ he thought, feeling the air seeping out of the sides of his strained lips. He tried to take in another breath as quietly as possible, but he was sure everyone in the room heard him gasp. _First, I will make him to do a hundred Sun Salutations - and then I’ll kill him._

“Hold it.”

Jon glanced toward the head of his mat. A pair of small feet had stopped in front of him, pausing mid-step. He knew it had to be Daenerys, but he didn’t have the strength to roll his head back and look up. Instead, he just focused on her toenails, the surface tiny and dotted with rubbed down red nail polish, and he waited until he finally heard those magical words:

“Lower yourself onto the mats as you breathe out.”

Jon sunk down onto his elbows, his lips shaking, and he pressed his forehead onto his hands, taking a moment to relax. His hoodie was clinging onto his back. His cheeks were flushed. He could barely hear anything over the sound of his own heartbeat rapidly hammering in his chest, and it took him a second to realise that Daenerys had knelt down next to him to speak.

“If you need a moment in child pose,” she said, her tone of voice calming, “then that’s okay.”

Jon lolled his head to the side so that he could glance up at her. He wasn’t sure what _child pose_ was, but he knew that no one else in the class had quit, and he could not make himself be the first.

 _Not when she’s looking at me like that,_ he thought, eyeing Daenerys’ face. Once again, her expression was neutral, yet there was _something_ in her eyes. A glimpse of something challenging. Something _daring_ him.

Jon took a long breath in through his nose. Then he muttered: “It’s the snake next, yeah?” He wanted his voice to be strong, but it came out in a shiver.

Daenerys quirked her brows. “Okay, class,” she said, holding Jon’s eyes as she rose, a little smirk on her lips as she instructed: “Next, it’s the _cobra_.”

Jon felt his face go red, but pushed himself to carry on: cobra, downward-facing dog, lunge, stand, inhale, exhale. Start over. As he moved, his mind started closing down, and he felt himself blankly copying the moves of the woman in front of him. There was nothing else to it - just carrying on and hoping that he would last till the end.

It wasn’t until a hand pushed against his back that he blinked and realised that Daenerys had joined his side once more. He was settling into a lunge, but her touch made him stir in surprise.

“Sorry,” she said as he met her gaze, and she pulled her hand away, “I should’ve asked if you mind.”

Jon shook his head, feeling droplets of sweat flying through the air. “It’s okay,” he said, though he regretted it the moment her palm sunk back onto his wet hoodie. He swallowed and thought: _She must be disgusted with me_ \- but if she was, she didn’t let it show.

Daenerys pushed with one hand on his back whilst her other stroked up across his chest. “Don’t hold your breath,” she said, and Jon exhaled in the same, feeling how his whole frame melted against her touch. It made her smile. “Strengthen your torso,” she instructed, “and reach back.”

Jon poked his tongue to the side of his cheek as he followed her guidance. His arms ached. His knees were about to give in. Yet he managed to stay upright, and he eyed the floor with concentration on his face. “Like this?” he asked. His voice was a faint pant.

“Look ahead,” Daenerys said, and Jon snapped his head back up, his eyes gazing toward the front of the class. Around him, the other women were staying in position, their bodies perfectly posed, their limbs calm. In comparison, Jon felt like a branch caught in a storm - he shivered and flailed, unable to keep his balance without watching his feet, and he felt his whole body go warm with embarrassment. Had it not been for Daenerys pushing her body to his, he would’ve fallen.

He could feel her warm frame close to his. He could sense her breath on his ear. His skin tingled as she whispered: “It is your body, not theirs - you control it, not them.”

Jon swallowed and nodded. “Thanks,” he said, unable to think of something else to say, but it worked - the moment she stepped away, he looked ahead once more, but this time, he didn’t linger on the sight of the other participants. He eyed the tapestry of a giant elephant, its eyes meeting his, and he kept his focus on the animal for the rest of the class.

* * *

“You did well.”

Jon tied his sneakers before straightening back up to face Daenerys. Her cheeks were light pink, but else she looked the same as she had when they started the class. Not a trickle of sweat, not a slight hint of breathlessness to her voice.

Jon awkwardly crossed his arms to hide the patches in his pits as he mumbled: “Thanks.”

“You don’t believe me.” Daenerys cocked her head, and Jon leaned back onto the heels of his sneakers as he admitted:

“I felt pretty dumb today.”

Around them, the other students were packing up. A group of women were talking as they passed them by, their chatter turning to snickering as their eyes met Jon’s. Jon averted his gaze and cleared his throat.

“We all strive for perfection in life,” Daenerys said. To Jon, she almost sounded like she was quoting one of Grey’s self-help guides. “But it doesn’t exist. We must let go of our fear of failing to experience something new.”

Jon glanced up Daenerys’ body, taking in every inch of her frame, and he reminded himself of the position she’d contorted herself into just minutes earlier. “With all due respect,” he said, finally meeting her eyes, “that is easy to say when you’re already good at something.”

Daenerys narrowed her eyes. “What kind of sport do you do?” she asked.

Jon flushed. “I mostly sit in an office,” he deflected the question.

“I felt your abs,” she simply stated, making Jon’s cheek go even more red, “and I don’t care what kind of chair you have - no brand gives you a six-pack.”

“Might be that I swim sometimes,” Jon said shyly. He glanced to their left as the last woman pushed past them outside, her head lowered as she wished Daenerys:

“Namaste.”

“Namaste,” Daenerys returned the greeting, her hands clapped with a smile, before she turned back to frown at Jon. “Well, I’ll have you know that I can only float.”

“Nonsense!” Jon blurted. “Everyone can swim!”

“Everyone can do yoga,” Daenerys retorted.

Jon stared at her, and she met his gaze unashamed. After a while, he finally sighed: “Okay, I get your point.”

“I mean it,” she said, “you did well today. I hope you’ll be back.”

“Maybe next week,” Jon said, his thoughts lingering on Grey. _If I can get the asshole to show._

“Well, I’ll be here,” Daenerys said and smiled.

Jon watched as she sunk back down onto her mat, stretching her arms above before rolling forward, positioning herself into what he now knew to be child pose; head down, arms forward, arse back. He stood for a second longer than necessary, just taking in her sexy frame, before forcing himself to walk out. “Bye!” he called and rejoined the cold downtown street, his clammy skin immediately cooling in the breeze.

* * *

“You’re such a fucking jerk!”

Jon walked the street with brisk steps. Minutes earlier he had been freezing, his shorts and tee barely covering his skin from the rain that thickened the air. But one phone call from Grey was all it took to make him feel aflame. As he dodged in between the crowds of people heading to work, he tried to concentrate on whatever excuse his friend was offering him on the other end of the line:

“Mate, I can’t help it - I’ve got a _cold_.”

“What happened to becoming a _better man_?”

“Does that have to happen at seven in the morning?” Grey groaned.

Jon gritted his teeth together as he finally laid eyes on the yoga studio. The small space was stuck in between an ice cream parlour and a bicycle shop. This early in the morning, both were shut, but the studio had light glimmering in between the pulled blinds. “You could’ve told me,” Jon sighed, his anger wearing out. He was too tired to argue, more so when Grey agreed:

“I could’ve. Sorry, mate.”

“Do you really have a cold?”

“I really do,” Grey assured him, followed by a hearty coughing fit.

Jon rolled his eyes as he grabbed at the studio door and swung it open. “You know,” he said, “you really do owe me a-” He stepped over the threshold and paused as he caught sight of Daenerys:

She was on her elbows, her body stretched into the air, her legs bent at the knees, her feet crossed at the ankles. Though it seemed her weight was partially resting on her head, her eyes were closed as if asleep, and her lips relaxed in a slight pout that gave nothing away.

Jon swallowed as his eyes roamed her body for a moment, taking in the roundness of her arse in the black leggings and the strength of her thighs as they remained steady in the air, not a single muscle shivering.

But when he glanced back down, her eyes fluttered open, and he swiftly turned his back on her as he shut the door and quietly told Grey: “I’ll call you back.” He hung up and pressed his palms flat to the glass door, eyeing the wet street outside as he tried to build up the courage to face Daenerys again. He heard a slight thud, followed by the sound of her feet moving across the wooden floor, and once he turned, he was face to face with her smirking lips.

“Garuda salamba sirasana,” she said and, when he hesitated, clarified: “Eagle headstand.”

“Right,” Jon mumbled and shyly scratched his arm, “I didn’t mean to intrude.”

“Just warming up before class,” Daenerys said with a shrug, the same casual tone to her voice as if he’d simply caught her making a cup of coffee in the office. She folded her arms as she let her gaze wander his body, and Jon felt himself instinctively puffing up his chest slightly. “Looks like someone’s been shopping?”

Jon pulled at the corner of his tee. It was advertised as _breathable material_. It felt like cheap cotton. “I realised a hoodie might not have been the best idea,” he admitted.

“Is yoga a bit harder than you expected?” she asked and raised her brows.

Jon licked his lips as he looked into her eyes. He saw it again - that _something_. That _challenge_. It was like she was daring him to stay, struggling his way through another hour of impossible positions, but though the thought alone made his knees ache, he heard himself say: “Maybe a bit,” his tone of voice forcibly unimpressed.

Daenerys’ smile deepened, causing faint dimples to show, and Jon felt his heart skip a beat. “Well, you must like it to show this early. Class doesn’t start for another twenty minutes.”

“It doesn’t?” Jon said and checked the app. _Fuck, she’s right,_ he thought as he noticed the start time: 7:30am. “Now I feel dumb.”

“Want to feel useful?” Daenerys asked. She headed to the back of class and grabbed a rolled up mat from the wooden stand. With a flicker of her wrists, she unfolded it mid-air and placed it down, perfectly aligned with the floorboards. She gestured toward the rest of the rolls. “I could use a hand with these.”

Jon kicked off his sneakers. “Sure thing,” he said and walked over to grab a mat himself.

As they worked their way from back to front, unfolding mats in perfect lines, Jon found himself sneaking glances at Daenerys. He liked the way her silver ponytail bobbed over her shoulder when she moved, how the elastic band of her leggings sat tight in her white skin, how her small toes wiggled when she meticulously adjusted the mats he’d put down. When she caught him looking, he smiled politely and averted his eyes, but he felt a lingering heat forming in his stomach.

“What made you start yoga?” Daenerys suddenly asked, breaking the silence.

Jon peeled at the corner of a mat. “To be honest,” he said, “it was my friend. I’m always complaining about my back hurting, so he suggested yoga.” _He also suggested that I come check you out,_ he added in his thoughts, but there was no way he was going to admit to it out loud.

Daenerys sighed: “Back pain? You should’ve told me before! I could’ve adjusted some positions for you.”

Jon smiled wryly. “You don’t have to do that,” he started, but Daenerys interrupted him:

“Of course I do!” There was power to her voice, and Jon found himself blinking at her, his own expression vexed. She knelt on the mat next to his as she explained: “It’s what I do, you know? There’s no point to my class if I can’t design it around my students.”

“Sorry,” Jon said, feeling like a scolded child. Sensing his cheeks flush, he was keen to change the subject, so he swiftly continued: “Is that what made you become a yoga teacher? The chance to help?”

“Oh no, I became one out of spite,” Daenerys simply stated.

Jon couldn’t help but laugh. “Come again?”

“It’s the sad truth,” she said and shrugged. She settled back onto her bottom, pulling her knees to her chest as she wrapped her arms around her legs. “My mum was a yoga teacher, and as a kid she would bring me along to class. I would bumble around in between her students, and they would all laugh and find me cute.” She rolled her eyes, her cheeks going pink at the memory, and Jon chuckled.

“Right, but that doesn’t explain the _spite_ ,” he said.

“Well, when I became a teenager, I thought: why not actually try it for real? By then my mum had stopped teaching, so I found this random class online and signed up. I was super excited to go - but it was _horrible_.” Daenerys grimaced as she talked, and she rested her chin onto her knees, her eyes seeking the floor. “The teacher basically told me that no girl with love handles and an ass like mine can ever hope to do yoga seriously. Mind - I just wanted to work out, I wasn’t looking for _professionalism._ ”

“But it made you angry enough to make it your profession?” Jon guessed.

“It was stupid,” Daenerys acknowledged with a little smile, “but at the same time - yoga is meant to be for _everyone_ , and I want to make it so.”

Jon thought back on how her hands had gently adjusted him, how she had encouraged him to look past the other participants and seek inwards. _She’s been there,_ he realised, _that’s why she knew how I felt._ He parted his lips to say something, but the door swung open in the same, and three girls scurried over the threshold, their voices loud in the otherwise silent studio.

“Morning Dany!” one of them called, and Daenerys sent them a smile over her shoulder before turning back to Jon.

“Thanks for your help,” she said and rose to her feet. “I’ll be looking out for your back this session.”

“Any time,” Jon said, unable to come up with something better on the spot. He nestled back onto the mat, pretending to be busy stretching out whilst his gaze sought the girls as they surrounded Daenerys, their voices a hushed whisper as they shared greetings and gossip in one breath.

 _Grey was right_ , he thought, his gaze lingering on Daenerys’ silver ponytail, her back turned to him, _one look at her, and I do feel young again._ His knee cracked in the same. Jon grimaced and laid flatly down on the mat, preparing himself for the breathing exercises that were to come.

* * *

Halfway through class, Jon flipped onto his stomach as he took in a heaving breath. They had only done four Sun Salutations his time, but his body was aching all the same. As he pressed his forehead to the mat, smelling himself in the foam, he remembered that it could be worse.

 _It could be the day_ after _practice,_ he thought, thinking back on how he’d woken up in agony the week before. He had barely been able to drag his legs from the bedroom to the toilet and back.

“That was a good warm up,” Daenerys said from the front, and Jon thought:

 _We have only been warming up?_ with a helpless grimace.

“Since you’re all lying down, how about we do the locust pose?” she suggested, and Jon heard an immediate shuffle all around him as the women got in position. He couldn’t even be bothered to look up - he needed to _breathe_.

From the loudspeakers, a steady rhythm of drums and flute music was playing. When Jon breathed in, he smelled the new set of candles that Daenerys had arranged: an aroma of lemongrass. It was picked up by the aircon and wafted across him, like waves of scents constantly surrounding him. Had it not been for the sound of tapping feet, he could’ve closed his eyes and gotten lost in his own senses, but instead he glanced across his mat to the feet at its head, and he knew instantly that Daenerys was hovering.

“As you all know,” she spoke, her voice soothing, “the locust pose is a gentle backbend with a range of health benefits. It is especially known for relieving back pain.”

Jon was barely listening. His eyes were seeking up her legs, admiring her strong calves, her sturdy thighs, the shape of her stomach, the firmness of her breasts. It wasn’t until he glanced into her eyes that he realised what she’d said, and she winked down at him as she slipped her hands to her lower back, patiently eyeing him.

“Oh,” Jon mumbled, then: “ _Oh_.” _She’s changing the lesson for me,_ he thought and prodded himself up onto his elbows, his eyes desperately seeking the other students to get a grasp of the pose. Luckily, Daenerys smoothly continued:

“Your arms are by your side, your palms facing up.” She waited until Jon copied her words. “Touch your toes together, and then slowly lift. You will feel your head rise, your chest rise, and your arms lift as your back bends. If you can, lift your legs too to really stretch your body.”

Jon arched his back, lifting himself off the floor, his limbs shivering. _There is no way this can be good for my back,_ he thought, but still, as he rested in the pose, his lips turning to a thin line on his face as he concentrated on not collapsing, he realised: _It doesn’t hurt._

Daenerys walked around him, her steps silent. In the reflection from the mirror, he could see her gaze shortly seeking across the other participants, but it came back to rest on him. “Hold it,” she said, and Jon bit his teeth together, “but also don’t forget to breathe.” He gasped in air in the same, only then realising that he’d been holding his breath. His gasp echoed between the walls, making someone in the room snicker.

Jon closed his eyes as he felt embarrassment wash over his body. _Why do I have to be so fucking loud?_ he scolded himself, but before he could get lost in his thoughts of negativity, Daenerys reached down and grabbed him by the wrists. He fluttered his eyes open in surprise as he felt her soft, small fingers close at his hands, then tug him further backwards.

“Reach,” she instructed, and Jon pushed himself along her hands, his whole body trembling. He stretched his fingertips, feeling his own rough tips brush against her skin, but she didn’t recoil. Instead, he felt her pause, holding him up for a moment longer than necessary before instructing: “Now rest.”

Everyone in class slipped back onto their mats, breathing out, and Jon too was lowered by Daenerys, his breath caught in his throat until his cheek pressed to the foam once more.

“Again,” Daenerys urged. The class followed. Once more, Jon had only just pushed himself into position before he felt her hands on his wrists again, forcing him to go deeper into the pose. Her voice was clear, as if she was speaking to the whole room, but he felt as if it was meant just for him as she instructed:

“This pose is deceivingly easy. Anyone can rest in it, but to benefit from it, you must push yourself. Not too much - we are not here to damage ourselves,” at this, she held Jon in place as he tried to push further back, forcing his body to arch, “we only want to _just_ challenge ourselves, _just_ push the boundary, and then - relax.”

Once more, she led him back down, and Jon breathed in as he pressed to the foam, his cheeks clammy. But in between the ache and sweat, he also felt something else - a tingling sensation in his wrists from where she had touched him. The moment her hands left his, he felt empty, as if he had lost something of importance. But it would not be for long - the moment he’d exhaled, Daenerys once more clapped her hands together and spoke:

“Let’s discover a different way to rid ourselves of back pain - the bridge pose,” - and once more, all the women in class shuffled into place, and Jon helplessly glanced around as he saw everyone now on their backs.

Jon shyly flipped over and glanced right up at Daenerys’ smiling face.

“This pose,” she said, not breaking eye-contact, “can be restorative. It will stretch your spine and allow your body to breathe - not through your lungs, but through the space that you create within yourself.”

Jon blinked perplexed, and he watched as Daenerys made her way to the student next to him. She stood by the girl’s mat, guiding her as she bent her knees, pulled her heels close to her body, and then thrusted her pelvis upward. He immediately felt himself blush and looked away.

“We will hold the pose for three breaths,” he heard Daenerys say, his eyes focused on the ceiling above. The space was dotted with fairy lights. He was grateful he was not bathed in stark light considering what he was about to do. “Then relax for a breath. Then repeat. Do it at your own pace.”

 _This is why men don’t go to yoga,_ Jon thought and took in a deep breath. Still, he had to try; he placed his arms at his sides, rested his head onto the mat, and then awkwardly pushed his legs up, lifting his pelvis toward the ceiling. He paused for a second, then lowered himself before thrusting back up.

“Three breaths,” Daenerys reminded him. She came back into view, walking around the bottom of his mat, her eyes amused as she took in his jerks.

Jon flushed and paused mid-air. _Right, this is not a thrusting competition,_ he thought. He took in a deep breath, trying to get comfortable with his head. He could feel all the blood in him rushing to his ears, but only for a second - as Daenerys knelt next to him and reached under his body, all the blood started rushing back down again. _Fuck._

Her hand was on his arse. In truth, he knew she probably meant to push at his lower back, but still the bottom of her palm brushed to his buttocks as she urged him up higher. “Spread your legs a bit,” she said, her voice hushed, and Jon felt his groin throb.

“Like this?” he mumbled, drawing his knees apart. The movement earned him a chuckle.

“Like _this_ ,” she spoke, and Jon felt her other hand push between his legs as she separated his feet more, allowing space in his hip.

His body was shivering. He tried not to glance toward her. He knew that if he did, she would be able to tell from his eyes what he was feeling - pure _lust_. It was the gentle yet stern way she led him, the way she watched him with such attention, the way she pushed and pulled at his body; it all made him shiver and wiggle, and he felt relief flood over his body as someone from the front of class called on Daenerys.

“Can you show me how to do this?”

Daenerys rose and left Jon’s side, and he collapsed back into the mat in the same, squeezing his knees together as something _else_ in his body was suddenly aching. _Focus inwards,_ he told himself and squeezed his eyes shut, _focus inwards, focus inwards, focus._

* * *

“You’ve got a good focus,” Daenerys said and clapped Jon’s back.

Jon felt himself jump, and he swirled on his heels to face Daenerys. She blinked at him with a humoured expression on her face, and he shyly smiled: “Thanks, I tried my best.”

The class had finished. An hour ago, Jon arrived tired and annoyed. Now, as the clock on the wall showed 8am, he felt relaxed, calm, _refreshed._

At least he had until he looked back into Daenerys’ violet eyes and felt his heart throb.

As the other students pushed past them, chirping ‘Namaste!’ at Daenerys as they passed, the two of them stepped to the side to a quiet corner. “I’m impressed,” Daenerys said and before Jon could shrug her off she continued: “No really - I am.” Her voice was earnest, and in her eyes Jon found no glimpse of malice. “It takes a lot to step out of your comfort zone and try something new, especially all on your own. You should feel proud.”

“Thanks,” Jon mumbled.

Daenerys cocked her head. “You said it like that last time as well,” she noted, “with that same tone of discomfort.”

“I guess I find it awkward being praised,” Jon said. “Like I’m a kid or something.”

“That’s the problem with society, isn’t it?” Daenerys mused and crossed her arms. “We all want validation, but we feel weird giving it, and even weirder accepting it. Well, that’s not gonna fly in my class - I want open-mindedness. I want _honesty_.”

“Honestly?” Jon said, pulling at his tee, “I feel like a big, gross, sweaty man in a small space of experienced women.” He paused, watching Daenerys’ face as her expression turned to a concerned grimace before he smirked: “But I also feel _amazing_.”

Daenerys let go of a loud laugh that made her cover her mouth. “You had me there,” she said behind her hand and smiled. “Does that mean you’ll be coming back?”

Jon glanced down Daenerys’ frame and bit his inner cheek with a little nod. “I reckon so.”

Daenerys bit her lower lip, clapped her hands together, and smiled: “Namaste,” as she did a slight bow.

Jon pushed his feet into his sneakers. “What does that mean, anyway?” he asked. “That _nahmahste_?”

“It means that I bow to you, or rather to the divine in you,” she explained, “it’s a show of respect for what is sacred in you and me.”

“Right,” Jon mumbled, at once feeling stupid for having eyed up Daenerys’ body whilst she greeted his very spirit. He averted his eyes and clumsily pressed his own hands together as he said: “In that case - namaste to you, too.”

“It’s the thought that counts,” Daenerys chuckled, and her gentle tone kept him warm all the way home through the rain.

* * *

From then on, Jon showed up every Saturday at seven.

In the half hour before class started, he would help Daenerys set up the studio whilst talking about everything and nothing all at once, and in the space of four weeks he learned the following:

  1. Daenerys could speak five languages fluently.  
  
Apparently, her father had worked in the military, often forcing the family to move about at a whim, and she would start from scratch, picking up grammar and words and phrases just by living in a new city.  
  
In comparison, Jon found he could sometimes barely speak English. The idea of learning another language made his head hurt, though the feeling of pain was alleviated when Daenerys smiled at him and promised _private lessons in French_ should he ever wish to try. He sensed there was an innuendo in there that he did not catch.  
  

  2. Her favourite yoga pose was the firefly.  
  
When Jon asked her, it had been a casual question, a chance to learn something _more_ about her. He had expected some tame answer, but not an actual demonstration - and definitely not of _this_ : Daenerys balancing on her hands, her arms stiff like pillars as her legs spread on either side of them, stretching into the air, her calves resting above her shoulders as were they wings ascending from her body.  
  
The pose left him with a direct view of her leggings stretched thinly across her crotch, the faint line of her knickers just visible. Had he not turned his back on her in the same, feigning interest in a crack in the floor, he was sure he would’ve sported a hard on right at her face.  
  
_I am such a pervert_ , he scolded himself, unable not to blush as Daenerys caught his gaze in the mirror and only slowly undid the pose. _She’s a professional - this is her job, not some show for me._ Still, her eyes sparkled, and there was something suggestive in her smile when she asked:  
  
“Do you want to try?”  
  

  3. Daenerys was single.



The third point came across after a clumsy conversation at the end of class.

Jon lingered as the last women waved goodbye to Daenerys, and he gestured toward the water sprays in the back as he asked: “Want a hand wiping down the mats?”

“Don’t you have somewhere better to be on a Saturday?” she joked, but seemed grateful enough as he grabbed a cloth and started wiping sweat off the foam. “Thanks. It’s easily my least favourite part of the job.”

“At least everyone doesn’t sweat much,” Jon said, eyeing his own soaked mat with a sense of embarrassment. “You clearly don’t get many men.”

“In here or in general?” she asked, and Jon snapped his lips shut, making her chuckle. “I’m sorry, it was just the way you said it.”

“My own fault,” Jon said and knelt to wipe the mat. He scrubbed across the surface until he deemed it clean, then moved on to the next. “I’m sure you get plenty,” he said, then felt his face flush even more as Daenerys laughed, “I mean, _men_ , as in, _dates,_ as in-” he sighed and knelt into child pose, hiding his face, “never mind.”

“I get asked out, yes,” Daenerys said, her voice still tingling with amusement. As Jon nodded, she knelt down next to him, starting on the mat on his right as she sighed: “Of course, no one has asked me out _recently_.”

“No?” He glanced toward her, and she met his gaze.

“No,” she agreed.

There was a pause. As Jon slowly sat back up from the pose, Daenerys too straightened her back, and they looked at each other, the silence tense.

Jon felt his mouth go dry. _This is my chance_ , he knew, and his heart started beating unsteadily as Daenerys turned on the spot to face him, her knees _just_ brushing against his own. _This is my chance to ask her out._ He clenched the drenched cloth in his hand. He cleared his throat. As Daenerys cocked her head, he parted his lips to speak, and -

“Do you want to come to my class on Tuesday?”

At Daenerys’ question, Jon felt his words stuck on the tip of his tongue. He feebly said: “What?”

“On Tuesday next week,” Daenerys said. “I’m having a special evening session. We’ll be focusing on challenging our bodies. You might enjoy it.”

Jon smacked his lips and took in a deep breath through his nose. As usual, Daenerys’ face was neutral, and he thought: _Did I misunderstand something?_ The idea alone made him feel hot with embarrassment. _Did she see me pining for her, and is this her way out?_ Unable to look her in the eyes, Jon glanced back down at the cloth and tried to sound upbeat as he said: “Oh, right, that sounds nice. Yeah, I’ll come.”

“It starts at seven,” she said. “Dress comfortably.”

“Do I need to book?” Jon asked, pulling out his phone to find the app, but she stopped him with a headshake.

“It’s invite only,” she said and smiled. “Don’t be late.”

“Right,” Jon nodded. They continued to wipe down the mats, preparing them for the next class, but though their friendly chatter continued, Jon couldn’t help but to feel dumb.

 _I’ve been turned down,_ he realised, scrubbing away at a stranger’s wet mat, _in the cruelest way possible. Maybe I shouldn’t go. Maybe I should pretend to have a cold._

* * *

_Maybe I’m an idiot._

Jon paused on the threshold to the studio as he looked around in awe. The main lights were turned off, but the net of fairy lights in the ceiling were glimmering, and all along the back-wall shelves candles had been lit. A scent of lavender hung in the air. From the loudspeakers, a soothing sound of humming was filling the room, the foreign chant echoing between the walls.

“Right on time,” a voice chirped.

Jon jumped as he turned to find Daenerys on his left. She had moved so quietly that he didn’t even sense her approach. Now she stood straight, hands resting on her lower back as she eyed him, the violet glimmering in the dim light. “Hey,” he said, finding no other words to speak.

“Hi,” she smiled back.

Daenerys was wearing pink leggings that sat just below her navel, a white crop-top that hung loosely on her small shoulders, and a thin striped cardigan which had been tied around her hips. Her hair had been woven into an intricate braid. When she cocked her head, it slipped over her collarbone, and Jon found himself looking for a second too long at her bosom where the braid ended.

He pressed his knees together and swiftly glanced around the empty studio. “Am I the first to arrive?”

“And the last,” Daenerys said, reaching behind him to shut the door. The blinds were already pulled. As she dragged the curtain down over the glass door, Jon found that they were completely shut off from the outside world.

He dropped his bag next to the shoe-rack as he sent her a surprised look. “But it’s just me?”

“I told you,” Daenerys said, crossing her arms as her lips pursed into a confident smirk. “ _Invite only._ ”

 _I_ am _an idiot,_ Jon realised, and he felt his heartbeat push its way to his throat as Daenerys walked closer to him. He could smell her, a light waft of rose perfume and sweat, and when she breathed out, she was so close that he could taste her air on his lips. Green tea. Dark chocolate. Hint of toothpaste. Mint. He licked his lips and shivered as she reached out, but she didn’t make contact with him - instead, her hand swooped down as she patted his backpack aside.

“Did you change before coming?” she asked, eyeing the end of a tie that was sticking out from an unzipped pocket.

Jon nodded and cleared his throat, trying to get his mind to focus on conversation again rather than _her_. “Right, yes,” he stuttered, “I’ve come straight from work.” His shift only just finished at six. Changing out of his suit in the company’s small toilet stalls proved a challenge, but one made easier after teaching his body to bend out of shape. _Turns out yoga_ is _useful,_ he thought amused.

Now, he was in a simple black tee and shorts, the fabric already clinging on to his skin that was damp from rushing, and he ran his fingers through his hair as he tried to tame his wild locks back into a bun.

“Dedication,” Daenerys hummed, “personally, I always change at the studio.”

“Is there a changing room?” Jon said surprised, at once feeling daft at not realising, but when Daenerys shook her head, he sent her a vexed look. “Where then?”

“Here,” she shrugged and gestured about them. She took a few steps away from him, her teeth resting on her lower lip as she said: “I’m lucky you never showed before seven. Could’ve walked in on me in my knickers.”

Jon felt his body warm at her words, and he tried to suppress the blush that was taking over his face. “Is that so,” he mumbled, his lips suddenly dry.

Daenerys just sent him a dirty smile before turning her back on him and taking a few long strides toward the shelves. She pulled out a mat, unfolded it, and placed it right in the centre of the room. “Your spot,” she said and waved for him to follow.

Jon stepped out of his sneakers and only slowly did he approach her. “Am I actually taking a class alone?” he asked nonplussed.

“Not exactly.” Daenerys waited until he stepped onto the mat before she went to retrieve one for herself. She placed it next to his, leaving just a few inches between them. When she straightened up, her braid jumped to her back, and she sent him a confident smile as she asked: “Do you dare?”

Jon looked at her stumped. “Dare what?” he asked.

Daenerys’ smile deepened. Perhaps it was merely the flickering candles that caused shadows to dance across her eyes, and perhaps he was reading too much into the way she bashed her lashes and pouted her lips, but he sensed _that_ again. That something that pushed him, challenged him, _dared_ him. It made his skin shiver.

“You’re an interesting man,” Daenerys said, easily changing the subject. She reached up to play with her braid, the silver locks loosening between her fingertips. “I’ve known you for weeks and yet I don’t really know anything about you.”

“That’s not true,” Jon protested. As she stepped closer to him, her eyes questioning, he felt a prickle of sweat on his nape. He wiped it off with the back of his hand and stammered: “I mean, you know that I swim.”

“ _Sometimes_ swim, was it?” Daenerys chuckled and pushed her fingertips to his stomach.

Jon felt himself tense under her touch.

“Sometimes,” he agreed, “and I work in an office.”

“I don’t even know _what_ office,” Daenerys pointed out. “You keep much to yourself.” Though her nails were cut short and round, he felt them through his shirt as they walked their way up to his chest. He watched them come closer and closer to his neck, and he drew his legs together to suppress the blood-flow that was only heading one way.

 _Don’t make a fool of yourself,_ he chided himself, even more so when her fingertips dug into the softness of his collarbone. He swallowed. “Maybe I am not interesting, but really boring,” he said, making Daenerys laugh.

“Maybe,” she said, holding his gaze for a hot second before pulling her hand back. “Maybe.”

As she stepped back onto her mat, Jon drew in a shaking breath and clenched his hands into fists at his sides. _That was close,_ he realised, feeling how his heart had pushed its way into his throat. He needed a distraction, so he asked: “What did you mean before, about the _dare_?”

“Well, Jon,” Daenerys said, and he liked the sound of his name on her lips. It sounded different when it was just the two of them. It sounded _intimate_. “I may not know much about you, but I know this - it takes a certain kind of man to start going to yoga alone. Either you’re a masochist, or you like a challenge.”

“Perhaps both,” Jon joked, hoping to make her laugh again, but Daenerys merely knelt onto her mat and looked up at him, her gaze urging him to follow. So he did; he dropped to his knees, hands resting on his thighs, and he moved with her as she settled into a cross-legged positions, hands on knees, palms facing up, index finger pressed to the thumb.

“You’ve learned a lot in these past weeks,” Daenerys said, closing her eyes as she rolled her shoulders back and relaxed her body into the position. Though Jon pretended to close his own eyes too, he kept them open by just a slither to allow him to watch her. “I want to see how much.”

“Is that what the class is about?” Jon asked. “A sort of _evaluation_?”

“I’ve seen the way you look at my body.”

Jon’s eyes snapped wide open, and he turned on the mat to gawk at her, his cheeks red, his throat clenched. “What?” he said. It came out as a whisper.

Meanwhile, Daenerys remained seated, her back straight, her lips pouted, her eyes closed. “I’ve seen the way you look at my body,” she repeated calmly as if she was merely chatting about the weather. “I don’t think there’s an inch of me you haven’t scrutinized.”

Jon felt panic set in. It tingled across his skin, and he was in a hurry to clarify himself: “I never meant-” - but Daenerys cut him off:

“How much did you look, how much did you learn?” she mused. “I want to see. If you do the pose right, I’ll take off a piece of my clothes.”

Jon blinked as his lips snapped shut. _I am hearing things,_ he thought, his mind buzzing as he stared at her. _She is not saying what I think she is saying._

Yet Daenerys’ voice was unmistakably clear as she continued: “If you do it wrong, you take off a piece of your clothes. Loser is naked, and the winner-” she paused, her lids finally opening, and she glanced out of the corners of her eyes as she smirked: “Anyway... _Do you dare?_ ”

Staring into her violet eyes, the glimpse in them naughty, Jon heard himself say: “I dare.”

“ _S_ _un Salutation._ ” Daenerys voice was quick, and Jon felt himself unprepared at once. She sat watching him, her eyes expectant, and when he didn’t move at once, she raised her brows. “Already forgot?” she asked and clucked her tongue.

Jon shook his head and then, after a slight pause, scurried to his feet. _So that’s how this is going to play out,_ he realised, eyeing Daenerys as he stepped onto the end of the mat, his legs straight, his palms pressed together at his chest. He wasn’t sure why, but he felt excited at once. It was a quivering sensation that started in his stomach and soon spread across his whole body. As if all his senses heightened; the smell of lavender was sharp, the feeling of the foam soft, the air in the room cool, the heartbeat in his chest rapid.

He breathed in - one, two, three - and closed his eyes for a beat. _I must win,_ he realised breathing in - one, two, three - and out. _I can’t make a fool of myself._ In - one, two, three - and out. _I want her so badly._ Then, he started:

His arms stretched backwards as he inhaled, then he folded over himself in an exhale, his fingertips brushing to his toes before steadying themselves flat onto the mat. He went into a lunge, raising his head, then a plank, his muscles working hard to keep his body flatly aligned with the floor.

 _It is odd,_ he thought as he moved into the poses, recreating what he remembered from class, _it feels so very different with just the two of us._ When he was in class, he was shy, worried about how he might look, concerned that someone’s snicker was aimed at him. But with Daenerys watching him? - Jon glanced at her as he lowered himself to the mat and then rose halfway into the cobra. _With Daenerys watching me,_ he thought, his lips curling into a little smile as her own curved upwards, _I feel like I can do anything._

Downward-dog. Lunge. Fold. Stretch. Palms at chest. Exhale. Arms down.

Daenerys clapped her hands as she stood up. “Good job!” she chuckled, and Jon felt his cheeks go a bit warm.

“I didn’t mess up,” he said, his voice full of honest surprise.

Daenerys smiled and pushed her fingertips into the knot of her cardigan. “You didn’t,” she admitted, tucked the sleeves out of the knot, and dropped the fabric to the floor.

Jon scoffed: “That’s hardly _removing_ anything.”

“It was on me, and now it’s not,” Daenerys retorted and stuck her tongue out at him with a wink.

 _She’s come prepared,_ he realised, feeling heat rising across his neck. _She’s playing me._

“ _Warrior one,_ ” Daenerys said.

Jon buzzed with confidence. “I thought this was a challenge,” he said as he settled onto the mat, arms stretched to the side, leg in lunge, his body posed flat facing the mirror.

Daenerys slowly walked around him, her fingertips stroking across his back. She moved so closely that he could feel her warm voice on his nape. “My, my,” she whispered, and he held his breath with excitement.

Jon followed her frame in the reflection, saw how she watched him; her gaze was resting on his arse, then his shoulders, her fingertips closing around them. When her tips sunk into his muscles, he had to stop himself from groaning. “Go on then,” he said, “shirt off.”

Daenerys met his eyes in the mirror, her own gaze amused, and she smiled: “As you please,” before grabbing a hold of the fabric of his shirt and pulling it over his head.

Jon stumbled in surprise, and he barely managed to stay upright. By the time he regained his focus, he found himself staring bewildered at Daenerys as she pressed his shirt to her chest, a dirty grin on her lips. “ _Your_ shirt!” he said, “not _mine_!”

“You got the pose wrong,” Daenerys explained, her head sinking a bit between her shoulders as she eyed him up and down. “So I get my prize.” At her last words, her gaze seemed to linger at his chest, and Jon nervously brushed his thumb across his stomach.

“What did I get wrong?” he asked meekly, and he watched as Daenerys pressed her nose to his shirt, taking in a deep sniff as she hummed:

“Hmmm,” and only slowly dropped his tee to the floor. She cocked her head to the side as she reached out to touch his chest, her soft fingertips dragging down across the ripples of his abs, and Jon tightened every muscle in him that he knew.

 _She is so close,_ he thought, smelling her scent, feeling her heat. When she glanced up into his eyes, he wanted nothing more than to lean down and kiss her. But Daenerys was still in teaching mode.

“First,” she said, her hand pressing flat to his stomach as she turned him, “in warrior one, we face ahead, and second,” she continued, her fingers dancing back up to his arms. She took a hold of them, raising them above his head, her palms brushing from his round shoulders to his rough palms as she spread his fingertips, “we have our arms up high.”

“What did I do?” Jon asked.

Daenerys smirked, her fingertips dancing back down across his skin until she could brush against his beard. “Warrior two,” she said.

Jon silently swore at himself. “I’m an idiot.”

“ _Chair pose_ ,” came the next challenge.

 _Oh, I know this one,_ Jon thought, though he felt less assured than before. Still, he settled into what he thought to be the right pose: arms up, legs bent, thighs as parallel to the floor as possible, his muscles taunt. He rested in the position for a moment before looking toward Daenerys.

She was walking around him with her hands on her back, watching him carefully. “Do you know a different name for this pose?” she asked.

“That’s not part of the challenge,” Jon reminded her.

She smiled. “Utkatasana,” she said, pushing her fingers beneath her crop top, “and true.” With a swift move, she dragged off the flimsy fabric, revealing a white, tight sports-bra beneath. In truth, it was not much different from what he might see other women wearing to any class, but somehow seeing _Daenerys_ in it? - it made Jon’s heart skip a beat.

As he licked his lips, hungrily eyeing her bosom, Daenerys stretched her arms and said: “Copy me.”

“Wait,” Jon protested as he watched Daenerys kneel, “copying wasn’t part of the deal.” He would’ve said more, but he found himself silenced by a bright smile before she easily threw herself backwards, her stomach rounding into the air as she remained kneeling, her whole body bending in a crescent as her head rested on the floor, and her fingertips brushed to her toes. “ _Wow_.”

“Copy me,” Daenerys urged from the floor.

“No fucking way.”

“Then drop your shorts.”

“I have _back pain_ , remember?” Jon spoke incredulous though there was light laughter to his voice. He could just about touch his toes. Watching Daenerys contort her body like that felt _thrilling_. It somehow got his groin throbbing, and he knew immediately that he could not be dropping his shorts - at least not alone. “I’d say we both lost this round.”

“How?” Daenerys laughed and untangled herself. It looked as easy to her as anything, and before he knew it she was kneeling again, her cheeks pink from the sudden blood-flow to her head.

Jon swallowed and walked around with brisk steps, trying to distract himself from his cock that was filling with blood from the sight. _Don’t think of her flexibility_ , he scolded himself, although when he met her eyes, he felt that was _exactly_ what she wanted him to think about. “Well, I couldn’t do the pose,” he admitted, “but doing new poses was never part of the deal.” He took in a breath and faced her with his arms crossed, ready to argue further, but Daenerys just shrugged and said:

“Okay.”

“Okay?” Jon blinked as she stood up and pushed her thumbs into the elastic band of her leggings.

She sent him a wry smile. “Okay,” she repeated with a nod. Then she plainly pushed the fabric down and stepped out of the bottoms, revealing her lacy yellow knickers to him.

Jon gawked; there she stood, just in a small sports-bra and pants. Her fleshy thighs were tanned, the line ending just by her crotch, making him believe she recently had a beach holiday. The fabric of her knickers was flimsier than her top had been, and through the lace he could see the shape of her pink labia.

Just looking at her made his blood boil. His cock was stiffening down his left leg, and he moved awkwardly on the spot.

“Go on then,” Daenerys said humoured. She crossed her arms, puffing up her chest in the same, and nodded at his groin. “Looks like someone needs some space.”

Jon went bright red, but he knew he was trapped - a deal is a deal, and he found himself grabbing at the band of his shorts, pausing, and then pulling the fabric down.

As the shorts dropped to the floor, he felt painfully on display. Despite wearing black briefs, his hard member was obvious, and he awkwardly held his hands in front of his crotch as he eyed the floor.

“You had a good look,” Daenerys protested, “it’s my turn. Hands off.”

“You know, I’ve realised this is unfair,” Jon mumbled, “you’ve got more clothes on.” Still, he slowly moved his hands aside, allowing Daenerys sight of his bulging crotch.

For a moment, she stood still, just watching him, and Jon felt himself shiver under her scrutiny. _Perhaps I am not what she expected,_ he thought shyly. But then, she approached. Like before, her fingertips crossed his chest, slipped down his stomach, tickled his sensitive sides, and her gaze feasted on all of him, from his shoulders to his throbbing cock.

Jon couldn’t stop the feeling of lust that was filling every part of his body. It was the intense attention she was giving his frame, as if she wanted to remember every little detail about him. It made him feel awfully _wanted_.

“Perhaps then,” Daenerys finally spoke, her voice a whisper, and she pushed both her hands up across his chest to rest on his shoulders as she looked into his eyes, “you want to come up with the next dare.”

Jon stared into her violet eyes, the bright glimmer in them long replaced with dark desire, and he shook his head. “No,” he said, and it surprised her.

“No?” She blinked at him, for once the one to look confused, and Jon felt himself smile as he finally allowed his hands to close at her waist.

“No,” he said, his rough fingertips stroking to her skin, feeling her muscles work beneath it, sensing her heat. He brushed his palms down, past the line of her knickers, onto her arse, and he grabbed a firm hold of her buttocks. “No more dares.”

Daenerys bit her lip with a gasp and watched him through her black lashes as she asked: “Then what?”

“I want to fuck you.” Jon heard his own voice, gruff and needy, and he knew at once that he could not back away. But in Daenerys eyes, he saw only need, and when she challenged him:

“Then do it,” he couldn’t hold back any longer.

Jon lifted her by the arse, causing her to whine in surprise, more so when he pressed her back flat against the cold mirror. She shivered to his chest, her arms reaching around his neck for something to hold on to, and he soon felt her fingertips in his hair, his bun coming undone.

This close, his throbbing groin was pressed to her knickers. This close, her rounded breasts were resting to his chest, the fabric of her bra rubbing to his nipples. This close, he could smell her, sense her, _feel_ her whole body, and he paused, his lips hovering hers as they looked into each others eyes, for a moment holding their breaths.

Then he kissed her. Her lips were soft and warm, and as he claimed them, they parted in a moan. His tongue easily stroked inside of her mouth, tasting what he smelled on her earlier: the chocolate, the toothpaste, the mint. He wanted _more_ ; his pushed himself harshly to her, causing her legs to flail around his waist, and he heard the thud of the mirror behind them settling close into the wall.

“Oh God,” Daenerys whispered, her tongue crossing his, and he suckled the tip before wetly kissing his way from the sides of her lips to her ear, nibbling on the lobe.

“How,” he breathed to her ear, his fingertips kneading her full buttocks in his hands, making her shiver, “have I resisted fucking you in class?” He nuzzled his nose to her skin, his lips dragging their way down her neck until he could peck her shoulder.

Daenerys wriggled in his grasp and gasped: “You’re too _daft_.” She grabbed him by the cheeks, forcing his head up to look into her eyes. As he took in a struggled breath, she whispered: “I have flirted with you every morning since you first showed up, and you have just not reacted normally.”

“What’s normal?” Jon asked licking his lips. With her trapped against the mirror, he could easily hold her up with one hand on her arse. With the other, he sought up her side, feeling her flesh, tickling her skin until he reached her breast. He tucked his tips beneath the band of her bra, forcing his entry to her breast which he grabbed in his rough palm.

Daenerys whimpered at his needy touch, and she arched against the mirror. “What’s _normal_?” she repeated, rolling her eyes back as Jon grinded into her, his throbbing cock tracing the line of her knickers once more. She was wet, and they could both smell her as she soaked her panties with her juices. “Normal is asking me out. Or at the very least asking to _fuck me_.”

“I just did.”

“ _Weeks later!_ ” As Jon brushed his thumb to her nipple, she gasped and pushed back against his touch. Her own hand slippered from his face to his chest, and then further - she pushed her way between their bodies, reaching for his cock, but he was _just_ too close, _just_ too far. “I want to touch you,” she begged.

“Okay,” Jon whispered, dropping her down a little so that her hand could close around the shape of his cock. As she traced it through his briefs, he felt his lips shiver, and he pressed his forehead to hers with a moan.

“I’ve wanted to do this,” she said, a dirty smile on her lips, “since you first got a hard-on doing the bridge.”

Jon’s eyes snapped up to meet hers. “You _saw_ that?” he said, his cheeks flushing, but as she squeezed his cock and rounded the head, he could no longer hold on to the embarrassment. He just closed his eyes with a grunt and pushed into her hand. “I thought I was being _discreet_.”

“I told you,” Daenerys chuckled, pressing her lips to his, “ _daft_.”

 _Perhaps so,_ Jon thought, but one thing he knew for certain - he needed to taste her, _now_. With a tug, he pulled her free of the mirror, an imprint of her back being the only thing left behind, and he turned them around as he placed her onto his mat, the foam making a crackling sound under them.

As he slippered down between her legs, Daenerys made a face of regret as she had to let go of his cock, but her features soon melted into a sigh of relief as Jon’s lips pressed to her soaked knickers. “Oh God,” she mumbled, her hand grasping hold of his hair instead, and Jon smiled to the fabric as he let her lead him.

She smelled wonderfully, he decided. Not perfumated, just of woman, of _sex_ ; as his tongue stroked to the fabric, he lapped up the taste, feeling the lace crinkle together between her labia as it got too wet to apply any cover. His lips were soon brushing against her soft lips as they spread for him, urging his tongue to seek deeper. He used his nose to nuzzle the line of the pants aside to allow him to dip into her cunt, kissing and licking his way to her entrance.

Beneath him, Daenerys wriggled and gasped, and her hand guided his face up and down, making his nose stroke around her wet, hard nub. He could feel the need shivering in her, and he felt it in himself too as his cock was still trapped in the restraint of his briefs, the precum soaking the fabric.

“I need them off,” Daenerys said, and Jon pulled back and tucked at her panties, dragging them off her legs before leaning back in. But she pushed her feet to his chest as she held him in place, hovering just above her cunt. “ _I need them off,_ ” she repeated, looking into his eyes before her gaze sought his crotch.

“Oh,” Jon said, and he quickly prodded himself up on his knees as he pulled down his pants, his cock jumping free into the warm air between them. His length was fat and hard, and the back vein pulsated lively when he gave himself a stroke and watched Daenerys settle onto the mat.

“Do you know any good positions?” Daenerys asked, and she chuckled when he blinked at her blankly. “How about happy baby?” she suggested. Before he could ask, she reached down to grab a hold of her feet, and she rolled onto her back as she spread her legs, her fingers holding tightly onto her feet as she presented him with her pink, naked cunt.

Jon stared at her dumbfounded, his lips so dry he had to lick them as he eyed her up. “Is that comfortable?” he hard himself say, though his hand sought her sex all the same. He pressed his fingers across her labia, watching them spread for him, and then, once he was coated in her juices, he pressed two fingers into her tight cunt at once.

Daenerys shivered and let go of a moan. Her cheeks were pink, perhaps being shy at presenting herself like this to a man, but all the same, she said: “I’m flexible, remember? This is the easiest of positions.”

The suggestiveness in her tone alone made Jon’s cock pulsate, and he groaned as he leaned over her, his body pushing between her legs, and he rested with one hand next to her head as he used the other to finger her deeper, slowly inserting a third tip into her wet hole. She was drenched. When he curled his tips upwards, she groaned with such deep lust that he felt his body tingle, and when he brushed his thumb to her nub, she fluttered her eyes open and stared at him as she urged:

“Fuck me already.”

Jon complied at once: he pulled his fingers free of her cunt, a line of her juices snapping in the same, and he grabbed a hold of his cock as he led it to her sex. Her labia closed warm around him, teasing his sensitive cockhead and, when he pushed in, he felt himself tucked inside her warm body, her inners stretching to make space for him.

“Oh _fuck_ ,” he gasped, and he had to lean onto his other hand too, hovering her body as he pushed himself into her tightness. Beneath him, Daenerys arched her back, but she managed to keep her legs spread, her fingertips shivering around the hold on her feet. As he pulled a little out of her, he watched her face, and he groaned as he jerked back into her, seeing how her brows knitted and her lips parted in a pleasurable whine.

Daenerys tossed her head to the side, the hair of her braid spilling across the floor as the elastic band was coming loose. As Jon started fucking her cunt, her whole body jerked back and forth on the mat, and the hair dragged with her, her intricate knots were all coming undone. She was too far gone in pleasure to mind, though; with every stroke into her, his fat length rubbed against her sensitive nub, making her shiver, and when he pulled out, she wriggled to hold on to the feeling of him.

And it felt _dirty._ Jon wasn’t sure whether it was her holding her legs open for him, urging him to fuck her deep. Or the fact that they were doing it in a studio, one that many people regularly visited and worked out in, including his own friend. Or maybe that just behind those blinds people were walking around outside, not knowing that someone was fucking just feet away from them. Perhaps it was all of it combined - but he _craved_ it.

Jon was so lost in the feeling of her tight cunt welcoming his cock that he barely noticed how she let go of her feet. Her legs stretched into the air, strong and steady, and she rested her legs onto his shoulders as she urged:

“Hold them.”

Jon grabbed a hold of her right leg first, using it to push himself up kneeling before holding on to her other leg as well. He could feel her muscles move beneath her skin - they shivered, and he thought, _She’s getting tired of holding herself up,_ \- but he’d barely finished the thought before Daenerys closed her legs tightly together, trapping his cock deep in her cunt, and then, with ease, bent backwards, her body folding over itself, leading him atop of her.

Jon scuttled to her arse and leaned with her in amazement, his hands slipping down the soft flesh of her thighs as he followed her, all the way until her toes rested on the floor above her head. If he’d not controlled himself, he could’ve come right then and there at the sight alone - Daenerys, folded into the floor, her wet, pink cunt stretched around his cock, her knees tucked close to her face as she whispered:

“ _Fuck me_.” Her voice was heavy with need, and all Jon could do was lean onto the back of her thighs, hover over her bent body, and sink deeply into her cunt.

Jon’s eyes rolled back as he felt his cock completely emerged in her. He’d never fucked a woman this deeply, never dreamt to be in such a position. But there he was, embedded in Daenerys’ willing body as she whimpered below him, pleading him to fuck her into the mat.

He moved slowly at first, worried about hurting her back and neck, unsure of how quick he could go. But then her arms sneaked up around her legs, and she reached, grabbing at his hands as he pushed into her, and she urged him deeper.

 _She wants more of me,_ Jon realised, a drip of sweat running down his forehead. _She wants me to fuck her._ So he did; he held onto her flesh, so tight that his fingers imprinted red marks on her white skin, and he started fucking her with more speed, more fury. She rocked beneath him, squirming at first in surprise at his roughness, but soon her lips parted in moans of lust. As he fucked her, rocking her body across the mat, forcing her off of it with his jerks into her tight cunt, they started panting together.

He was warm. He was sweaty. His smells mixed with hers, their pounding steady like the sound of the drums echoing from the loudspeakers. He prayed that if anyone heard them, they would believe it all to be music, but when he seemed to hit a particularly good spot within Daenerys, causing her to whine, “ _Oh fuck!_ ”, he doubted anyone would be fooled.

His balls were slapping her soft skin. His neck was reddening from lack of air. His body was tensing with a need to come. As he hovered Daenerys’ smaller body, his own broad frame shadowing her from any light in the studio, he realised that he wanted _more._

As Jon pulled out, Daenerys gasped in surprise, her cunt suddenly feeling empty - but it wouldn’t be for long. He pushed her legs to the right, flipping her onto her side, before grabbing her by the arse to position her on all fours.

“Let me test you,” he said, his voice gruff, and Daenerys wriggled her butt into the air as he positioned himself behind her, his fingers seeking between her legs, teasing her cunt. “What position am I going to fuck you in?”

Daenerys moaned as he stuffed a finger into her, her body sore with need, and she pressed her forehead to the cold wooden floorboards, her knees being the only thing still resting on the mat. “How would I know?” she asked in a pant.

Jon clapped his free hand onto her arse, watching her buttocks jiggle as he stuck another finger into her cunt. “Guess.”

He could hear her groan, probably from need and annoyance all at once, and he continued to slowly finger-fuck her, giving his own cock time to calm. It was bobbing between his legs, the head red and pulsating, eager to pound back into her. But he abided his time, waiting for her answer, and then:

“Cat pose?” she asked.

Jon slapped her arse, earning him a gasp from her, and he shook his head. “Looks like I won this round,” he said. He withdrew his fingers and grabbed a hold of her arse with one hand, her jiggling flesh steady in his grasp, and pushed his other hand to the small of her back as he led her into position.

Once she settled, he heard her state: “ _Child pose._ ” Indeed, she was on her knees, arse resting close to his groin, giving him a nice view of her behind and wet cunt, and her arms were stretched ahead as her forehead rested against the floor. It was a relaxing pose - _normally_. 

“Since when did you get so cocky?” she asked as he led his member between her legs, the head once more nestling by her labia.

Jon bit his inner cheek and tried not to moan too loudly as he slipped into her, the feeling of her stretching for him once more welcoming. “Guess yoga taught me something,” he jested, and she chuckled beneath him.

“I told you - it’s for _everyone_ ,” she said, but if she meant to continue her sentence, she lost touch of all words as he grabbed a hold of her waist, leaned over her, and started ramming into her cunt. He fucked her with need, harshly and greedily, his cock taking her whole body, and she melted between his hands, giving herself to the feeling of being had.

Jon’s body had been on edge before, and now he was sensing himself reaching release. It shivered through him, making his skin sensitive, and his cock throbbed keenly inside of Daenerys as he dragged her down onto it.

She too seemed close, her moaning louder, her panting more restricted. He watched as her arms stretched further, her fingertips grasping across the smooth floor for something to hold on to, her head thrashing to the side. Her lips were parted. A slight line of drool was hanging from them, dripping down her cheek as she found herself unable to swallow, her body overtaken with pleasure.

It was then, as he stroked into her _just_ at the right angle, his member dragging itself across her nub, that she came. Her eyes rolled back, her whole frame shivered, and she groaned as an orgasm rolled through her, making her thrash beneath him. Her legs closed in on him in the same and, as Jon met her gaze, the look in them glazed over with desire, he could no longer hold back himself.

He held on to her as he sped up, taking her one last time with a few strong jerks, before he came, spilling his seed deep in her wet, tight inners. Her cunt was shivering around him, sore from her own coming, and he paused to breathe in, his lungs screaming for air as he hovered her, head lolled back, lips parted in a warm, wet gasp of air.

Then, slowly, he pulled back, falling down to sit on his arse as he relaxed his body. He hadn’t even realised how he’d tensed his muscles but now, as he settled, he felt like he did after an hour of yoga - warm, aching, relaxed, spent, _amazing_.

For a moment, he sat quietly watching Daenerys’ arse as she remained in child pose, her body moving in small jerks as she filled herself with air. He could see her wet labia, how they had tightened back in, glistening with juices and a trace of his cum. Then, she pushed herself up to sit on her heels, stretched her arms, and, as if it was the most natural thing to do, moved about and twisted her body until she settled into half lord of the fishes pose: right leg up, left arm resting over the knee, her torso turned and head glancing over her shoulder at him.

“Ardha Matsyendrasana,” she said, smiling.

Not knowing what she was on about, Jon shrugged and replied: “Thanks?”

Daenerys laughed. “That’s the name of the pose.”

“Can’t fuck you in that.”

“Think you fucked me enough,” she said and rolled onto her knees. She crawled across the floor toward him, and Jon found himself leaning back, resting onto his elbows as she slipped on top of him, pressing a wet kiss to his lips. “Did you learn anything from your lesson?” she asked to his lips, her voice a mumble.

Jon smiled against her mouth. “I learned that you’re _very_ flexible.”

Daenerys chuckled and patted his chest. “Okay, but did you learn anything about _yourself_?” she pressed on.

As she pulled back, Jon licked his lips. He could still taste her cunt on them, but now also her breath. “I learned,” he said, pausing as he bought himself some time to think. His head was feeling rather empty, his body still lingering in the afterglow of having fucked, “that I like to fuck.”

“You didn’t know already?” Daenerys quirked her brows.

“With you.”

“Ah.”

“In public.”

Daenerys blushed a little, and she quickly glanced toward the windows, as if to ensure they were still covered. “I wouldn't call this public,” she said hesitantly.

“Wouldn’t call it private either,” Jon chuckled. As she got up, he flipped completely down to lie on his back, and he listened to her move about - the patter of her feet across the wooden floor, the humming as she picked up her clothes, the sound of fabric moving across skin. Then, there was an unfamiliar sound - a pop as something opened, and he glanced up to see her now dressed, sitting with a little tub of -

“Coconut oil,” she explained as she caught him looking. She smiled as she rubbed some onto her waist where he’d been holding her tight. He could see his imprints. “It might help on the ache later. Soothes, you know?”

“Sorry,” Jon said, his voice heavy with guilt, but she just shook her head.

She picked up the tin as she approached him. “I’m a strong woman,” she reminded him as she knelt next to his naked body. With a teasing smile, she wetted her fingers with the oil and rubbed some across his chest, watching it mix with his sweat. “If I didn’t like it, you would’ve known.”

“Would I now?” Jon said, licking his lips as he watched her paint his chest with the oil. She made circles and triangles, squares and smileys, and it tickled so nicely that he didn’t bother to ask her to stop.

Slowly, her fingers dipped lower, crossed his abs, smoothed them with the oil until they shone in the flickering candlelight. “Are you having fun?” he asked.

“Mh-hmm,” she smiled, continuing further down. She crossed his navel, went over the little bump of his stomach, down to the curly, rough hair around his cock. By then, her hand was glistening with oil, and when she took a hold of his member, it felt so nice and wet that he gasped.

Jon pushed himself back onto his elbows as he watched her give his cock a teasing stroke, and he asked: “What are you doing?”

“Oh, you don’t know?” Daenerys asked, feigning surprise. “This is something most men do. It’s called _masturbation_.”

Jon rolled his eyes. “I know that,” he mumbled. As she stroked him again, he grunted a little. His cock was still sensitive from having only just come, but the oil helped ease the soreness. The more she fondled him, the more she stroked - the less painful it became, and soon he started feeling himself throb with pleasure.

“You know, you were getting very cocky,” she said as she rounded his cockhead with the palm of her hand, her thumb dragging down his fat vein as she felt it pulsate. “Asking me about positions and all.”

“Only fair,” Jon shrugged, his eyes still fixated on her working hand. “You couldn’t be the only one having fun.”

“Oh, so you weren’t enjoying yourself?”

Jon grimaced at her smiling face. “You twist my words,” he said, and she chuckled:

“Sorry,” before resuming the jerk-off.

For a moment, he just laid enjoying her touch. The air in the room was warm now, and the cool waft from the aircon a pleasing breeze. The sounds from the loudspeakers had moved from jungle noises to soothing waterfalls, and he listened to the faint songs of birds as Daenerys continued her work on his cock. There was something erotic about being naked in the middle of a studio with his yoga teacher feeling him up. _But it’s not all I want,_ he realised and eyed her.

“Let me try,” he said as he pushed himself up sitting. For a moment, she looked confused, until he pushed his thumbs beneath the band of her bra and pulled up. He lifted the fabric over her breasts, letting it rest atop of them, and he finally allowed himself to take in the sight of her naked bosom.

Her breasts were full and round. Her nipples small and pink. They were soft against her frame but, when he dipped his fingers into the oil and gave them a teasing flicker, they soon turned stiff.

“Be nice,” she chided him, and Jon smiled wryly, but he complied; he rubbed the oil across the palms of his hands before pressing to her breasts, taking each in his hands as he gently massaged them. Daenerys sighed and leaned into his touch, her hand on his cock moving slower as he felt her body.

“Have you ever fucked a student?” Jon asked, caressing her nipples.

Daenerys shivered and shook her head. “Never.”

He leaned closer, allowing his lips to taste the oil on her breasts as he pressed a kiss to her cleavage. “Why me?” he mumbled to the skin.

Daenerys sighed and glanced down at him. Her gaze followed his movements across her bosom as he licked and kissed his way across each of her breasts. “I like the way you come across,” she said, “you are very… _twofold_. Shy, yet confident. Talkative, still never says anything in particular. It’s _interesting_.” She rubbed her thumb around the edge of his cockhead as she gave him a little smirk: “And, of course, you’re not hard on the eye.”

“Oh, thanks,” Jon laughed, and he rose to meet her eyes.

“What about me?” Daenerys asked, but she then shook her head. “No, wait, I know - it’s my body, isn’t it?”

“At first,” Jon admitted, earning himself an eye roll. He narrowed his eyes and smacked his lips. “Now, come on - I said _at first_. But then we started talking.”

Daenerys cocked her head as she listened. She was eyeing him with hesitation, but also intrigue. “Yeah?” she pushed.

“Yeah,” he nodded, “and I realised that you have this amazing attitude to life. I like to complain and moan, and I always think the worst is going to happen. But you’re so positive. It’s refreshing.” He slipped his hand from her breast to her cheek, stroking a line of oil across it as he glanced into her eyes. “I was going to ask you out. But then you invited me to this class instead.”

Daenerys wrinkled her nose. “What, so now I’m not worth asking out anymore? Got what you came for?”

“Oh come on,” Jon laughed, and his reply seemed to catch her off-guard. She blinked in confusion until he explained: “I still want to go out. If you’d like to, that is.”

Daenerys bit her lower lip. Her hand was hesitating on his cock, and for a moment he feared that perhaps she had said what she felt - that she got what she wanted, and that was enough. But then she nodded. “Okay.”

“Okay?”

“Okay, yeah,” she said, the smile on her lips spreading, and her hand started working his cock again, making him groan. “Let’s do it.”

 _Oh Gods, do I want to do it,_ Jon thought, his eyes rolling back as her movements quickened. Before she could get him too worked up, though, he pushed her hand aside. “Not like this,” he said, and he moved onto his own knees, mimicking Daenerys.

“No?” she asked confused before reading the look in his eyes. “ _Oh_. Oh Jon, I’m not sure - I mean, I’m still rather _sore_ ,” she said, her cheeks going even more pink than before.

Jon’s hand slipped from her cheek down her neck, then across her shoulder. As he traced her spine with his thumb, she sighed and leaned into the touch, and she didn’t stir until his hand pushed flat against her clothed bottom. “Well,” Jon said, his tone of voice thoughtful, and he pressed a small kiss to her lips, “there are _other ways._ ”

Daenerys looked into his eyes, drawing in a quick breath as he gave her buttocks a light spank, and he saw something in her gaze shift. It was like a switch turned on - the shy glow melted into a sense of _daring_ , and she placed her hands onto his shoulders as she rubbed them shiny with oil. “Is that so?” she purred.

“Have you ever tried?” Jon asked. His breath slippered across her lips as she leaned in to claim his mouth for a wet kiss. Their lips moved slowly. He could hear how their skin clicked with the sound of spit moving about.

“Long ago,” Daenerys whispered, making Jon stir. She glanced into his eyes as she twirled her tongue around his, and he mumbled: “And you?”

“Long ago,” Jon agreed. His hand stroked back from her buttocks to her hair. The tie was barely clinging on to her locks anymore, and he easily brushed it off, letting the braid finally come completely undone. As her hair fell around her shoulders, he pushed his fingertips through it as he deepened the kiss. “Never,” he spoke to her mouth, “with someone as sexy as you, though.”

Daenerys chuckled in the kiss, her voice becoming a moan as his other hand reached between her legs to give her cunt a feel. Despite being sore, she was getting wet, the mere thought of fucking putting her body back in heat, and she pulled Jon closer, pressing her naked breasts to his chest. They rubbed close, their bodies slick with oil, the scent of coconut filling their lungs, leaving a taste on their lips.

“He wanted to,” Daenerys said, her voice barely audible over their wet kisses, “so I did it for him.” She pulled back, gasping in air as she let her own fingers stroke through Jon’s locks. His bun was swiftly undone, his curly locks falling down around his ears, and it made her smile as she stroked the locks back to settle behind his lobes. “But you,” Daenerys said, looking into Jon’s eyes, her pouty lips slightly tucked upwards into a naughty grin as she warmly urged, “you make _me_ want it.”

That was all it took. Jon drew in a sharp breath, and he grabbed Daenerys by the waist as he flipped her down onto her mat. She whined in delight at his sudden movements, then in surprise as he swiftly turned her over, dragging her arse up into the air. She found herself almost in puppy pose - arms pushed ahead, head down, arse dragged into the air as her spine slightly curved inwards.

“A man of action,” she breathed. She meant to jest, but the excitement was thick in her voice.

Jon licked his lips as he settled behind her, his broad palms stroking her behind. It filled her pink leggings well, causing an enticing view for him, more so when he dipped his fingers in between her buttocks, watching the fabric pull in. The feeling of her fleshy arse in his hands made his cock stir, and he moved closer, allowing his length to brush in between her spread legs, the coconut oil glistening across the fabric.

“Impatient,” Daenerys teased.

“You have no idea,” Jon replied, and with a swift push, he pressed his fingers deeper into the fabric, got a good grip under his nails, and he pulled.

As the fabric split, Daenerys gasped in surprise. She pushed herself up onto her elbows as she glanced over her shoulder, seeing Jon nestled behind her with her arse now exposed through her ripped leggings. “You _jerk_!” she snapped, but there was a glimpse of thrill to her eyes.

Jon smirked as he caressed her naked arse, her warm skin now on display, and he reached over to dip his fingertips into the tin of oil before letting a single finger stroke into her crack. “You said it yourself,” Jon reminded her, locking eyes with her as he gently rounded her ring of muscle with his fingertip, wettening it with the oil, “ _impatient_.”

If Daenerys wanted to scold him, she lost all will as his finger pushed inside of her. Instead, she moaned, and she slipped back down from her elbows, pressing her cheek to the mat as her arms stretched out before her. “Oh _fuck_.”

 _Fuck indeed,_ Jon thought as his finger was embedded in her. She was warm, just like her cunt had been, but tighter. Her muscles locked around him as he dipped inside, partially pushing him away, partially inviting him further. That slight, involuntary movement made it easier for him to start fucking her hole. It was just one finger, but the look on Daenerys’ face was the world to him - pink cheeks, rolled back eyes, parted lips, mouth gasping for air, _pleading_ for more. He could barely hear it, but when he leaned over to kiss her skin, he felt it shiver, and he heard it, unmistakably:

“Oh _please_ fuck me.”

Her voice was shrill with need, and Jon replied by pushing another finger into her tightness. It made her hips jerk. He grabbed a hold of her buttocks with his free hand, keeping her steady and spreading her open all at once, and then, after a pause, he allowed himself to kiss closer to the crack. Then in between her buttocks. Then right to her hole.

As his tongue darted across her sensitive, pink skin, Daenerys’ moans seemed to fill the studio, echoing in the empty space. “Oh _fuck_ ,” she whispered, and Jon smiled to her arse.

He withdrew his fingers and took hold of her other butt cheek, pushing her open as he let his warm tongue flatly lap across her hole. He could taste the coconut oil that he had thickly applied on her, and it made him press his face closer to her for a better taste. It had mixed with her sweat and scent, and together with his wet tongue, he soon created a slick, easy entrance for himself, Daenerys’ muscles completely relaxed and ready for him.

Jon would’ve continued to lick her had it not been for his cock jerking between his legs, begging for attention, and he regretfully pulled away, his lips glistening from the rimming. Once more, he dipped into the oil, rubbed his hard cock until it was drenched, and only then, as he could barely take any more, did he lead himself into her arse.

The first push was easy, her body relaxed for him. He held onto the small of her back with one hand as he led his cock with the other, the head pressing through the muscles easily. It was then her body tightened, her inners digging in around his cock, and he heard himself groan loudly, a shiver of pleasure running through him.

“Relax,” he urged, glancing down at Daenerys’ face to find her shivering. Her bottom lip was clenched beneath her front teeth, her eyes shut tight. When he spoke, she peeked out from between her eyelashes, meeting his gaze, and he said: “I’ll be gentle,” earning him a slight nod.

“Okay,” she whispered, “okay.” She took in a deep breath, pulling her arms into her sides as she prodded herself to her elbows, and then, after another deep breath, she said: “Go on.”

It sounded like a command, but Jon knew it to be a plead, because as he rocked forward, he felt her body accepting his cock eagerly. It was as if he’d hit something in her, something that she’d craved to have touched. At least her inners tucked him further into her, her arse pushed back to have him fill her tight hole completely, and through the pleasure, the shivering sensation of _need_ , he could only give in.

Jon grabbed a hold of her small waist with both hands, holding onto her as he pushed himself all the way in. His balls rested at her buttocks, and he paused, letting her body adjust to him. Only then, slowly, did he drag himself out, his cock pulling from her tightness.

“Again,” Daenerys urged, her head lolling back, and Jon pushed back into her, making her moan. “Oh _Gods,_ ” she whispered. Her back was arched. Her head was rolled back, her hair spilling over her shoulders, her eyes seeking the ceiling. It was a mesmerising sight, one so _dirty_ that Jon could barely believe he was the one participating in it, and he hesitated as he just slobbered up the sight of her sexy, bent body.

But her smirk was what brought him back. “Don’t rip my leggings for nothing,” she said, her voice slightly challenging, and he saw _that_ glimpse in her eyes again. That something that overpowered him with a quiet look. “ _Fuck me_.”

So he did; Jon’s fingers dipped back into her flesh as he leaned over her, his frame blocking the light, and he jerked his hips forward, filling her once more. As she moaned, he pulled out, then slammed back into her, making her slip from her elbows on to her arms. But she didn’t seem to mind - in fact, as Jon glanced down, he saw her cheek pressed to the mat, her eyes seeking his, and he held her dirty gaze as he picked up his pace.

Daenerys’ arse was tight and warm, and it was soaked from the oil and his spittle. As he started fucking her with need, he could hear how the wetness slobbered when he pushed into her, and saw strings of the oil drag with him when he pulled out.

Beneath her legs, a slight puddle had formed from the oil, but also from her cunt which was dripping from excitement. He didn’t realise at first how drenched she was until he pushed a hand from her front to between her legs, his fingertips pushing in between her glistening labia. As he brushed across her nub, Daenerys rocked below him, and her arse clenched in on his cock.

“Sorry,” he whispered, realising how sensitive she was, and he was about to pull his hand back as she stopped him:

“No.” She shivered as she forced her head to the other side, allowing her to look up at him again. “No, do that again,” she said, and Jon swallowed and nodded before gliding his hand back in place to rub her nub.

As he continued to fuck her arse, as his fingertips brushed across her wet cunt, as he took her body with a harsh need - her frame started shivering beneath him. He didn’t notice at first, but as he started rocking into her, circling his hips for a different angle, she started slipping forward. Soon, she was pressed flat to the floor, and he was atop her, his cock embedded in her arse, his hand trapped beneath her on her cunt.

 _Oh fuck_ , he thought as she started rubbing herself down onto his fingers. His whole body shivered. His breath was heaved. His skin itched with a need to come, and it was spurred on by her hips jerking erratically, her movements filled with lust. _Oh fuck, if she keeps going like this, I won’t last._ It was the feeling of being needed so badly, giving such pleasure to someone that really ticked Jon toward the edge, and before he could stop himself, he came.

“Fuck!” Jon groaned as he released himself deep in her arse, filling her with all he had. His cheeks were bright red, partially from strain, partially from him holding his breath as his body jerked into her one last time. Beneath him, he heard Daenerys whimper, more so as he collapsed on top of her, his whole weight pinning her to the mat.

It was then he felt it - how she rubbed herself to his fingers one last time and, with his cock still embedded in her, came. The orgasm seemed to roll over her body like a wave; he felt her cunt tighten, her legs shiver, then her upper-body thrash, followed by her head as it rolled to the side, her lips tucked back to reveal her white teeth as she moaned deeply. Then, she relaxed, completely nestled below him, their sticky bodies seemingly becoming one as they gasped for air at the same pace.

By the time Jon could finally make himself move, he felt his whole being ache, and all he could do was pull out of her and flip down onto his back next to her, watching the ceiling as he exhaled. “Wow,” he mumbled.

Daenerys glanced at him, her frame still pressed to the floor, and she shyly tucked her bra back down to cover her breasts before rolling over herself. “You don’t say,” she whispered, settling on her back.

They glanced at each other. Then they both started laughing.

“Wait, hold on,” Jon said. His lungs hurt from the laughter which required way more air from him than he was able to inhale at the moment. He rolled onto his side as he watched her giggle. “What’s so funny?”

“Why are you asking me?” she grinned, rolling onto her own side as they looked each other in the eyes. “You’re laughing too!”

“I don’t know why!” Jon said. He reached out, placing his hand on her cheek, and she slowly calmed, her laughter kept behind her pursed lips though her eyes were still amused. “I just,” he paused, looking for the right words, something _refined_ to explain his feelings, something that a yoga teacher like herself who had studied ancient meditation could appreciate, “I just… feel… _happy_.” He felt daft the moment he said it, but Daenerys just smiled and reached out as well, touching his cheek as she nestled close to him.

“Me too,” she said, her breath slipping across his lips as she leaned in to kiss him. “I feel happy too.”

* * *

Jon felt _terrible_.

It was seven in the morning. The sun shone coldly on the blue February sky, but none of its heat was reaching him through the chilly breeze. He walked with brisk steps, his eyes focused on his sneakers as he tried not to look at his friend next to him, because whenever he did, all he felt was _guilt_.

Grey dragged his airpod out of his ear as he gave Jon a weird look. “What’s up?”

“What’s what?” Jon retorted, his voice shivering.

“You’re acting _odd_ ,” Grey said and narrowed his eyes.

“No I’m not.”

“Yes you are.”

“Well, you’re the odd one, suddenly going to yoga again.” He averted his eyes, making sure not to look at Grey as he spoke. He just kept staring at the pavement as he forced himself to walk - one more step, then one more, then one more, slowly bringing the two of them closer to the yoga studio.

Grey sighed and pushed his airpods into the pockets of his shorts. “Well, I _am_ trying to become a changed man.”

“You haven’t for the past, what, seven or eight weeks?” Jon said, his voice a huff. “Why now?”

“Why the interrogation?” Grey grimaced.

Jon shrugged and muttered: “I don’t know.” But he knew exactly why: because he had been consistently fucking Daenerys for the past two weeks, bending her body into every pose possible, whilst knowing that she was the very woman that his friend was pining for.

In truth, Jon was in two minds about the situation:

On the one hand, he felt almost righteous. After all, Grey had been the one to drop yoga the same day he decided to try it, and he’d not shown up since, making no conscious effort to get Daenerys’ attention. Every time was a new excuse until Jon just stopped bothering to ask. _So in a way, this was bound to happen,_ he justified to himself.

Yet, on the other hand, when he looked at Grey, his body shivered with such guilt that he could barely bear it, and it made him think that instinctively, he knew he was in the wrong.

Still, he had hoped to fess up to his antics in his own time. He surely hadn’t expected Grey to suddenly text him to say he would tag along for the morning class. And now, as they paused before the door to the studio, Jon felt his heart skip a beat as he realised that if he said nothing, he could lose his friend forever.

“Grey,” Jon said as his friend grabbed at the handle, “I’ve got to tell you something.”

Grey glanced at him, a brow quirked. “Yeah?”

“It’s about that woman,” Jon said, not specifying, and Grey looked confused until he clarified: “ _The_ woman? Who makes you feel _young_?”

“Oh.” Grey’s eyes widened, and his cheeks went a bit red. He pulled his hand off the handle as he stammered: “Look, Jon, I’m sorry-”

“No,” Jon hastened, “I am sorry, I mean, it’s like you say - she’s _gorgeous_.”

“She is, isn’t she?” Grey had a dirty smile on his lips. “I mean, that _body_.”

“I know,” Jon said pained. “It’s amazing, but-”

“And that face.” Grey shook his head in awe.

Once more, Jon agreed, “Yes, she’s stunning, but what I-”

“Man, I just want to stare into her brown eyes _forever_.”

“Yes, that’s what- _what_?” Jon paused. He sent his friend a vexed look. “ _Brown_ eyes?”

Grey nodded eagerly, his cheeks going more red. “Look, man, I know I’m the one who kind of pushed you to go to yoga, and I’m sorry. I know you must have sat lusting for her every class. But to tell you the truth-” He was about to say something else, but the door opened in the same, and Grey and Jon turned to face the two women standing inside:

There was Daenerys, stunning as always, her body clad in black leggings and a yellow tank-top, her hair pulled back in a ponytail. When Jon met her eyes, he blushed and smiled at her, and she waved her fingertips at him, her own cheeks pink.

But next to her stood someone that Jon didn’t quite recognise: the woman was wearing white leggings and a white tee, the fabric just exposing her navel when she moved, and her hair danced in curls around her face, her brown eyes opened wide in surprise.

Before Jon could say anything, the woman gasped: “Grey!”

“Missi!” Grey said, the smile on his lips wide. He straightened up, making his shoulders appear broader than normal, as he shyly asked: “How’re you?”

“Good,” she said, her own lips pouting into a shy smile. “Thanks for coffee the other day. It was nice.”

“It was, wasn’t it?”

Jon glanced between them. “Wait,” he said, and Grey seemed to snap out of his conversation in the same.

He turned to his friend with a panicked look. “Look, Jon, I’m sorry to tell you like this - but Missandei and I have, well, we’ve grown _close_ over the past few weeks.”

“Ooh,” Daenerys gasped, “Missi! Is _this_ the guy you’ve been seeing?”

The woman - Missandei, apparently - blushed herself as she averted her eyes. “Maybe,” she replied, her voice small, but when she glanced up at Jon, her own lips parted in a naughty grin: “And I guess that’s the guy _you’ve_ been seeing, Dany?”

Grey looked at Jon vexed. “Wait, you’ve been seeing someone?”

“You’ve been seeing _her_?” Jon asked, gesturing at Missandei.

For a second, everyone stared between one another, confusion on their faces. It was Grey who finally explained: “Well, I met Missi in my first yoga class, and I just knew I had to have her.” He glanced at her, his smile gentle, and she grabbed his hand with a nod.

“He asked for my number, the dirty man,” she said and winked. “We’ve been talking since.”

“You never noticed Missi in your classes?” Grey asked as he looked at Jon.

Jon blushed and was about to reply when Daenerys came to his rescue: “He was busy. Learning yoga.”

“That’s what I told Grey that I wanted,” Missandei huffed. “I said, you can’t keep telling me what a changed man you are and never go with me to class.”

“So that’s why you’re suddenly showing,” Jon mused as he looked at Grey, the pieces falling into place.

Grey shrugged. “Well, I guess that settles it,” and Jon eyed Daenerys with kind eyes as he thought:

 _I guess it does._ With the feeling of guilt long gone, they could all calmly step into the studio and prepare for class. As Grey and Missandei huddled up in a corner to chat, Jon followed Daenerys to the back to help her with the mats.

“I’ve been busy learning yoga, have I?” he smiled, and Daenerys laughed.

“Well, _some_ sort of yoga,” she said, placing her hand on his cheek as she stretched up to peck his lips. “I say we still need to work on your _flexibility_.”

At her suggestive tone, Jon blushed, but he wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her close as he suggested: “Tuesday at seven?”

Daenerys smiled to his lips as she mumbled: “Invite only.”

**Author's Note:**

> This story was inspired by my own failed attempts at yoga. I tried! - I took out a membership, went to loads of classes, and sweated my way through a few mats. But writing this honestly made me want to go back. Maybe one day?
> 
> Thanks to DragonandDirewolf for the cute art! She was the one who inspired me to go originally, and it's fair to say that she was better at it than me!


End file.
